Every so often, I watch some drama about a divorce, and then I thank all my lucky stars that my own divorce was rather painless, a no fault action where we split the finances and went our separate ways. But man, was Marriage Story really hard to sit through. Divorce can be an incredibly stressful and even dehumanizing process, especially when children are involved. Mine was not of that nature, and films like that one make me really glad of that fact. However, then there’s the Iranian drama A Separation, set in a country and culture where divorce is even harder. For the most part, there are a few surface similarities between the two films as it’s a couple that want a divorce, there are barriers, and there is a child involved. But the issues that complicate the break between A Separation‘s main characters are not the sort that the couple from Marriage Story had to deal with.
OK, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think the lead actress in A Separation has what looks like red hair under her headscarf, making me think she bears something of a mild resemblance to Scarlet Johanson.
The film opens with teacher Simin (Leila Hatami) and banker Nader (Peyman Moaadi) petitioning for a divorce. The two are not religious, but of course the Iranian government is. Has Nader been abusive or a drug addict or something? Well, no. Simin wants to leave Iran with her family, but Nader won’t leave because his elderly father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi) has late stage Alzheimer’s, and Nader won’t leave the old man alone. Simin won’t stay, Nader won’t go, and their daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi) isn’t all that happy about the separaton since Simin has been living with her mother for a while now. Termeh is staying with Nader, but when he has to go to work, someone needs to watch his father. Nader hires a poor, religious woman named Razieh (Sareh Bayat) to watch the old man while he is at work. Razieh is a little concerned about Nader since the fact he and his wife are separated doesn’t sit well with her. What if he’s abusive or has anger issues? Simin says he doesn’t, and even though she lives in a distant suburb and will need to bring her four year old daughter Somayeh (Kimiya Hosseini) with her, everyone agrees that she is the best choice to watch the old man during the day.
OK, so far, this seems simple enough. But Rezieh’s not really cut out to watch the unnamed old man, having to call a religious authority to find out if it is a sin for her to clean the old man when he soils himself. Between the old man and her young daughter, she’s in over her head, and a series of events make things worse: Nader returns home early one day to find his father unconscious on the floor, tied to his bed, and Rezieh nowhere to be seen. Why did she leave the old man alone? Why is there money missing? OK, the money is something Simin did, but Nader doesn’t know that. As it is, Nader pushes Rezieh out the door, and after she stumbles down the stairs, she lands badly and then later claims to have miscarried. Her poor, unemployed, deeply in debt husband Hodjat (Shahab Hosseini) starts showing up and demanding remuneration. Even though Rezieh wasn’t showing yet, a conversation Termeh’s tutor had with Somayeh means that, had Nader overheard, he was aware that Rezieh was pregnant. And if that is the case, then Nader committed murder under Iranian law, and he will either owe Hodjat a large sum of money or will need to go to prison to one to three years.
And therein lies the issue with this film. The situation is very complicated on just about every level. Did Nader know? He tells court officials he didn’t. Do his estranged wife or daughter believe him? Simin actually thinks he is responsible, but she doesn’t necessarily want him to go to prison. Termeh is stuck in the middle. It’s not uncommon for a child to be stuck between two parents during a divorce, both in real life and in a cinematic story, but I can’t say I have ever seen one where the point of conflict is whether or not the husband and father is guilty of murder under the law before.
What does all this have to do with Simin and Nader’s separation? Well, for one thing, Nader believes if Simin hadn’t moved out, they wouldn’t have needed to hire someone to watch his elderly father. And then there’s the fact that Simin and Nader are both more or less pressuring Termeh to believe something. Termeh only really stayed with her father because she thought that would somehow convince her mother to return, and various people are called to witness for the Iranian bureaucrat who will ultimately decide whether or not Nader is guilty. He claims he’s innocent and didn’t know Rezieh was pregnant. And regardless, Hodjat keeps demanding the truth from anyone who seems to contradict the story he and his wife are going with.
Now, knowing this, does anyone wonder what all this has to do with Simin and Nader’s divorce? It sounds more like Nader’s legal problems. Simin wasn’t there when it happened.
Here’s the thing: neither Simin nor Nader is a bad person. Both have their points of view, and if anything, Nader’s behavior seems to fit in with what little I know of Iranian culture. Sure, Simin is the one who filed for divorce, and he isn’t even arguing that she shouldn’t be allowed to leave if she wants to, but the two do tend to argue when they are together about the whole thing, with Nader only really expressing doubts about his innocence to Termeh. Yes, he did know Rezieh was pregnant. He had overheard the conversation. But that wasn’t what he was thinking about when he was trying to get Rezieh out of his home. So, he knew, but he temporarily forgot about it. Termeh wonders why he can’t just tell the court that, but he has to explain that this isn’t how the law works. And yet, when Termeh is called to testify, she unprompted tells a lie of her own to protect her father. Her father didn’t ask her to. He didn’t even tell her what she was going to be asked despite knowing.
That may be the key to what’s going on. As Simin, late in the film, argues, this whole experience–the separation, divorce, and Nader’s trial–is putting a strain on their daughter, despite the fact the girl (who says she’s in the 6th grade at one point, so she’s probably supposed to be about 12) hasn’t said anything about that. Likewise, when Simin makes a deal with Hodjat on her own to make everything go away, Nader refuses at first. His reaction suggests he doesn’t want his wife making such deals on his behalf, and he can’t admit to anything without certainty. But Nader’s suggestion privately to Termeh is he will agree to the deal with Hodjat if Termeh thinks he’s truly guilty. She doesn’t.
That said, it is Simin who likewise learns that, due to circumstances Rezieh didn’t tell anyone out of fear of her husband’s temper, that Nader is innocent. If anything, that moment then at the end is what allows the estranged couple to actually work together and find themselves free of the legal penalties. But it’s not really a moment of triumph as it is clear that Rezieh and Hodjat have a lot of problems with his unemployment and debts, and his reaction is to mostly hit himself, but the last sight from their home is of a tearful Somayeh. This isn’t something that Simin or Nader should feel good about, and it doesn’t appear that they do.
As I think on the film now, I am struck by the way that Nader and Hodjat both seem to be very forceful in how they talk to their wives. There’s a level of machismo, for lack of a better word, and yet it is the two women that more or less negotiate the final settlement as Rezieh doesn’t want the payoff Simin arranged with Hodjat since it would be sinful to take money for something she know Nader didn’t do. Likewise, both men are under stress. Nader just wants to make sure his father is taken care of. Hodjat is deep in debt, a fact that has bounced him in and out of prison already. This isn’t a scenario where anyone should feel good. Hodjat is in debt and perhaps facing more prison time. His wife lost a pregnancy. Their daughter is witnessing all this. Nader and Simin are separating, and it may be a good thing–though Simin’s mother still seems to like Nader–and Termeh, she needs to decide which parent she’s going to live with.
That’s actually how the film ends. Though the audience never learns which parent she chooses, the final shot shows Nader and Simin, sitting on opposite ends of a corridor, a window of some kind between them, already separated and the divorce finalized with only Termeh’s decision left to finish things off. Which parent will she choose? It may not matter. A marriage ended, a woman lost a pregnancy, and Nader’s father still needs care. All this is, in the end, is another step in a stressful time for a family as it breaks apart.
NEXT: You know what? It’s time for another international film, this one an Italian Western. Come back soon for 1966’s The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
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